Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1887-12-01

fresh sense or tnolf own QeSOlablOn, 1am1-
lies mourning the loss of one of their
number who had died during the night,
many grieving for children separated in
the crowds, all remembering homes, COM
forts, blessings, forever lost.
With dawn, wagons from the unburned
part OF the city began to arrive, sent by
kind hearts which remembered the hosts
of homeless fellow creatures, and filled
with food. Bread, meat and coffee were
distributed, and Grace-thanks to her
friend the German woman-received
larg Q roll.
But new uneasiness, CT rather the old
one, began to creep over her; fear that
this woman might try to detaIn her,
might suspect the treasure she bore. Al
though with many pangs at the apparent
thanklessness of the act, she took occa-
sion, while her friend was absent, to slip
away and turn once more towards town.
She had heard that all the churches and
school houses were thrown open to the
homeless, and she must start on her
search for papa and mamma. First, bow
ever she stole softly around the groups
on the praire, fearing, yet almost hoping,
to find them there.
Misery, sickness, death, insanity, trou-
that she knew; and bravely once more
she started on the road to what was left
Of the city.
ali that day long she walked, weary.
footsore, nearly crazy, inquiring her way
to churches and school houses. and go
ing through every one that she found.
''I'm looking for my papa, who's SICK"
opened all doors to her. Eagerly, almost
wildly. as the hours went by, she psered
into the faces of the crowd. She ate
something-she knew not what; some
body made her sit down and eat and
drink; somebody said kind words IN her
ear; somebody took off her soaked and
ruined shoes, and put on pair that were
dry, though coarse somebody tried to take
off her jacket to dry it, for it was soak
ing with last nights rain. But fear of
discovery aroused her. She tore away
with a cry, and ran many blocks before
she dared to look around to see if she
were pursued.
gust IS it began to grow dark Grace
who had all day heard dreadful tales of
suffering and death, Of people burned up,
and people dying of exposure-was set
thing into the belief that she no longer
had father or mother, that she should all
her life be a tramp and beggar, and that
all her sufferings had not after all saved
her dear papa, for whose sake she had
braved everything. just at this lowest
point of her courage, her eyes fell upon
familiar face coming out of church.
ooh Maggie!' she cried, with her heart
on her lips, where's my papa?"
Sam who are ye thin?" asked the tidy
Irish girl. 81 don't know ye, boy"
go Maggie I'm Grace! I'm not boy;
1 have on Bert's clothes" Here she whis-
peaed: 'I-I-I went to get something
for papa"
'Faith thin! do believe it's Miss Grace
herself; but I niver should ha' known her!
Holy Mother! won't they be Wild iust?'
ana Selling one arm Of Grace with grip
like iron, she started off with rapid strides
towards the suburbs.
"But Maggie, tell nae are they safe? Do
you know anything about them, Maggie?'
with cry so full of agony that the good
hearted though rough girl stopped.
''Wen, yis, thin; they're safe and sound
| in me brothers. bit house on the prairie.
They couldn't git no place to stay. Your
pa was carried in the wagon, and and the
Missis rode with the driver. We couldn't
git any place, an SO [ made bold to speak
of me brother who has spare bed-so he
has. So they went there, glad enough to
git roof over their heads. But amt
they just wild about you! Your pa was
out o. his sinses all night, an your ma
walked the house like mad creatur. I'm
out now-have been all day-trying to
find you. And why thin. I'd like to know
did ye run away that black day?"
| But Grace could not answer. Relief
and Joy, added to her suffe1ings, were toe
much. She had tainted dead away.
About 8 o'clock that evening there stole
into the back door of an Irishman's shan
ty on the prairie neat Irish girl, half
| dragging, half carrying the deathlike
figure of boy, ragged, forlorn, miser-
able; he looked like one of The worst
vagabonds of city life.
Mrs. Lord was warming something at
the fire, and looking so old and changed
that Grace hardly knew her. At sight of
Maggie she looked up eagerly, but seeing
her companion she fell back with a
moan.
'Oh, my God! you haven't found her,
then?"
"Thin ye don't know her, Missis? No
more did I; but look again!'
Another and closer look, and mother
and child were in each others arms.
Good news travels as fast as bad, and
in one minute more Grace was in the
arms of her father, and such scene of
tears and sobs and groans and cries, may
it never be your lot to see.
When all were calm, and Grace was
warmed and fed and bathed, and dressed
in some clothes of Maggie's, in which she
looked like an overgrown doll; and when
the precious package, which had SO near
ly cost the lives of Grace and her father,
was found to be not destroyed by it's
soaking told her story, or what
she could of it. Much of it she could
not recall, and never again could she be
induced to repeat it, SO full of horror it
was.
All through the dismal tale she was in
terrupted by her mothers tears and sobs,
and her fathers words, more precious
than gold, ''Brave girl Little daughter!
My darling! Brave little woman!" and
ending with long embrace, and the last
word of all:
"Little woman, you have saved your
fathers bonor and his life! You have
been a hero. Herbert-had he been a
neO-couId NOT have done more. douht